


A Year In The Life

by bitsori



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Meet-Cute, Slow Yet Quick Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, feat. Lee Minho | Lee Know & His Usual Tendency for Emotional Constipation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsori/pseuds/bitsori
Summary: In which Minho realises that things (read: feelings) are always in flux, and a lot can happen in a year. ( AU )
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 54
Kudos: 384





	A Year In The Life

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to post something for Christmas, but I couldn't finish on time, and not this is a day late. Nevertheless, this one is for all my readers! Happy holidays, and may 2021 be kinder to all of us. ♥
> 
> Because I only read through this once (out of desire to post it ASAP), there's probably more typos than usual. Apologies in advance, and hopefully none of the errors are bad enough that they take away your enjoyment. Have fun reading!

**×××**

  
  
  


**5월**

It's pouring cats and dogs the first time that Minho meets Jisung.

That idiom has always been interesting to him—why cats and dogs? Why not just dogs, or better yet just cats? Or why isn't it raining _fishes_ instead? At least fishes remind you of water. He doesn't get it, but he'd digress. The point is that it's raining pretty hard when he first _officially_ meets Jisung.

He's on his way home, walking the short distance from the bus stop a couple of blocks away from his apartment when the dark skies open and rain begins to pour. Minho immediately takes his folding umbrella out of his bag, only for a string of cuss words to slide off his tongue when it refuses to open. It's clearly broken, and in a fit of frustration, he tosses it into a trash bin that he passes by.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks, because he has no choice but to break into a run. _Double fuck,_ his brain supplies when he has to halt upon reaching the crosswalk just a block from his apartment, because the pedestrian light is flashing red.

The timer says he has to wait for 28 seconds more; Minho is not normally an impatient man but as he thinks about how much of a hassle drying his now soaked sneakers is going to be, he can't help but anxiously shift his weight from one foot to another.

And then, all of a sudden, fat drops of water stop hitting him on the face; he turns to look beside him and he realises that it's because the boy next to him has kindly taken the initiative to share his umbrella with him.

“Uh.” He stares at the male next to him; the stranger isn’t that tall—he’s shorter than Minho in fact, but only by around an inch or so. Two, at most, considering a quick glance at his feet show that he’s wearing thick soled boots. “Do I know you?”

He realises too late that he sounds a little snippy, which he really shouldn’t be considering the guy is being quite generous with sharing his umbrella. It’s one of those very rare moments where he’s in an absolutely terrible mood, however, with a burning need to lash out. He groans inwardly, because now he’s also realising that the notes he meticulously took during his one class earlier are probably ruined now. On the bright side, he figures it's a good thing that he had decided against bringing his laptop with him to school that day. His backpack isn't waterproof.

The boy next to him grins, looking a little goofy, and pulls Minho out from his thoughts and levels his temper a little.

“4-B, right?” he asks Minho. “I live across the hall from you.”

Minho turns and stares at him, and attempts to place his face. He isn’t sure he’s familiar at all, but he has to admit that the boy is pretty. He has bright button button eyes, and round cheeks that he feels sorely tempted to reach for and squeeze. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have forgotten this boy if he’d run across him before. 

Then again, he’s only really moved into his new apartment a little over two weeks ago, and even though he’s made perfectly cordial acquaintances with the door man, he hasn’t really had time to socialise with the building’s other tenants. It wouldn’t be impossible for this boy to have spotted _him_ around.

Before he can question the boy further, the pedestrian lights finally turn green and the cars stop. The two of them huddle even close under the same umbrella, and they scurry across the street. Minho notices when the boy’s hand finds its way to his lower back, and he wants to make a joking comment about that, especially since he doesn’t even know the other male’s name yet. Even he knows that that could probably wait until they get to the other side of the road, though.

The stranger leads him towards a building, and they stand side by side under the awning of a convenience store, watching as the rain goes down even harder.

“Oh, sorry—” the boy mutters, apparently having noticed the casual way his hand had remained resting against Minho’s back because he’s quick to retract it now. He seems shyer now, or at least his smile does as he lowers his head for Minho. “I’m Han Jisung, by the way.”

 _Han Jisung,_ Minho repeats the name in his head. Easy to remember, and strangely fitting of the boy. “I’m Lee Minho,” he returns.

They stand there in awkward silence; it’s as if the boy’s earlier bluster has run out, and now he’s just quietly shifting his weight from one foot to another. Somehow, that just colors Minho more intrigued.

“It’s getting stronger,” he observes, gesturing at the sky. “The rain, I mean. Do you want to make a run for it?” he cocks his head towards the direction of their (at least Minho assumes it’s theirs, and that the boy is telling the truth about being neighbors) apartment building, “or should we just wait it out?”

“Hmmm.” The boy wrinkles his nose, and for a brief moment, his expression reads to Minho as him really wanting to just go home; but then he exhales, and puts back on a smile as goofy looking as the one he was wearing earlier when he first offered his umbrella to Minho. “Doesn’t really look like we have any choice.”

Minho grins and nods. “Let’s wait it out then,” he says, pushing open the door to the convenience store. “I’ll pay for snacks in exchange for sharing your umbrella.”

  
  
  
  


**6월**

“Are you stalking me or what?” Minho asks one day, when they run into each other in the streets for at least the fifth time since that afternoon in the rain 

Jisung blinks at him, obviously surprised at the question, and Minho feels a little rash and guilty. It had been a joke, but it was delivered in a deadpan tone; sometimes he forgets that not all people appreciate that kind of humor. He attempts an apologetic smile, and in response, Jisung scratches the back of his head, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he says, and he means it. He laughs awkwardly. “There was kind of someone at my last apartment. She was a bit of a stalker. Kinda leery.”

To be fair, that’s also true. He had a creepy neighbor who seemed to be way too into him at the goshiwon he last stayed at; she was always creeping around him whenever he would use the shared kitchen, and as comfortable Minho is with making acquaintances, he has his limits. It was part of the reason why he had been so eager to find new board and lodging; it was pretty opportune that he found this new place, which was quite cheap for a one-bedroom, and only just a single bus stop away from his university. Lucky for him, the neighbors are also more interesting, if Jisung is any indication.

“Okay, maybe I _was_ waiting by the convenience store down the street so we can walk home together,” Jisung admits. He looks really embarrassed. “I thought it would be nice, you know? To be friends with my neighbor from across the hall. It really wasn’t hard to figure out that you get home around 5PM on Tuesdays.”

“Ah.” Minho nods. “So you _are_ a stalker, then?” There’s obvious teasing in his tone this time, and the right corner of his lips is turned up in a playful smirk.

“I’m not a stalker, I promise!” Jisung exclaims, defensive anyway; his face is a deep shade of red. “I’m not leery either! I think?”

Minho bursts out laughing. He doesn’t know why, he just does. Maybe it’s because of the frantic look on Jisung’s face, which he has to admit is adorable.

“So, that time, when it was raining?” Minho inquires, “you were waiting for me?”

“Oh, no! I was out with a friend that day,” Jisung explains. “I promise! I’ve seen you around the building before, once or twice, and you were soaking wet, I just wanted to help you out. Today is the first time I did that, and now I'm never doing that again.”

He has a way of speaking that’s easy to believe, Minho realises, because he doesn’t think he’s telling lies. As far as he can tell, even though Jisung seems to frequently shift in between cocky and shy, he seems to be the type to be straightforward and honest; Minho has always been good at reading people so he decides to keep trusting his gut.

“Okay,” he acquiesces finally, smiling; frankly, he doesn't mind. He's flattered at Jisung's attempt at being friends.

“Okay, we’ll be friends?” Jisung asks; his tone is cautious but hopeful, and it only serves to amuse Minho more.

“Okay, let’s do the good neighbor thing,” Minho clarifies; but when Jisung grins wider, Minho can’t help but do the same.

  
  
  


“You again,” Minho comments one morning, when Jisung manages to slide into the elevator at the last second before the doors close.

Minho has lost count of the number of times they've run across each other—rather, he's given up keeping count. He thinks they’ve run into each other at least once a day, which is only really weird since despite living right across each other, Minho had gone for almost three straight weeks without Minho having set eyes on him.

“I'm in your life now,” Jisung supplies with a laugh; he wiggles his eyebrow at Minho. “In your system. In your head.”

Minho snorts, and just lifts an eyebrow at Jisung as he leans against the side of the elevator after he pushes the button for the ground floor. It has only been two weeks, but he has had enough interactions with Jisung that he now knows that it flusters the younger more when Minho pulls, rather than pushing.

Sure enough, Jisung wrinkles his nose and makes a face; he proceeds to lean against the opposite wall, folding arms across his chest in an attempt to mirror Minho’s stance.

“Off to school?” Jisung asks, after the floor count decreases by one.

Minho nods, and fiddles with the sleeve of his cardigan. He realises that he actually has no idea where the other boy goes to school—or if he even goes to school, at all. He’s sure if they attended the same university, the cosmos would have already made sure they run across each other on school grounds. “You too?” 

“Oh.” Jisung shakes his head. “I don’t go to school,” he explains, much to Minho’s surprise. “I dropped out after one term in college—wasn’t for me.”

It’s not reasoning that would be looked upon kindly by most people, but Minho finds it valid. He also finds it admirable that Jisung is brave enough to do as much. “Work, then?”

“Um.” Jisung nods, and the floor count drops again. One left until the doors open on the ground floor. “Yeah. I work at a small recording studio. A friend of mine helped me get the job. It’s mostly grunt work at the moment. You know, technical stuff needed to be done around the place like fine tuning instruments.”

“Nice,” Minho comments. “Is it a job that pays well?”

Jisung laughs. “It pays for rent,” he shrugs. “I also write web content articles on the side to make sure all bills are paid,” he adds. “For now.”

There’s something about the way he says _for now_ that speaks to Minho. He can tell that Jisung means it, that one day he’s going to do something that he loves, and he’s going to earn money doing it.

“But?” he prods gently; the elevator finally opens, and when Jisung steps out, Minho naturally falls into step with him.

“But nothing!” Jisung grins. “I appreciate the job at the studio because it keeps me close to music. It’s what I really want to do—the dream is to one day produce songs for the country’s top hitmakers.”

Minho can tell that’s what he really wants to do and the scale of the dream makes him smile; he mentally wishes him luck with that. 

“So, how about you? What are you majoring in?” Jisung asks.

“Veterinary medicine,” Minho answers.

“Cool!” Jisung seems genuinely impressed, which, for some reason, pleases Minho a lot. “So if I ever have problems with my pet turtle, I can just knock on your door to ask for help, right?”

Minho laughs, amused. “You have a turtle?”

“Not really,” Jisung laughs as well. “It was a hypothetical. I’ve always wanted one, though—I’ve also always wanted a cat.”

“I have a cat,” Minho volunteers. “Cats, actually, but two of them live with my parents. I just have Dori with me here.”

“Wait, you do?” Jisung gasps, eyes wide, clearly overexcited. “Dori… that's a cute name. Fuck—can I come and play with it some time?”

Minho chuckles; he always enjoys talking about his cats. “Yeah, sure—but don’t blame me if he scratches you.”

“Don’t worry.” Jisung puffs his chest out; once again, he’s displaying the same kind of bluster he had that first day the two of them met. “Animals love me.” 

  
  
  


Initially, Jisung starts calling him ‘Minho-ssi,’ because it’s the correct and formal way. It doesn’t take very long before that changes, though.

“Let’s drop the formalities,” Minho tells him one afternoon, after he buys hotteok for both of them from the ahjussi selling them down the street. “Even the doorman just calls me Minho. Let’s be good neighbors like that.”

“Oh. O-okay.” Jisung stutters over his words at first—but maybe that’s from the hot filling of the pastry he just took a bite from, because not two seconds pass before, “Minho. Minho-hyung…?”

Minho cocked his head to the side. “What year were you born?” He always assumed Jisung was younger than him because of the way the boy carried himself, but they’ve never really properly settled that.

Jisung answers him with a year, and Minho nods. “Yeah, I’m older by two years.”

“Two years?” Jisung looks surprised. “What about— _Minoring,”_ he asks, playful and clearly teasing; even though the nickname makes his ears tingle, Minho is quick to shoot him down with a glare.

“Getting bold now, aren’t we, Han Jisung?”

The younger male laughs. “You’re the one who said to drop formalities!”

Minho snorts; he tells everyone that, but few people follow through so easily. “Right. Okay. Han Jisung.”

Jisung beams at him, and by this time, Minho is sure—it’s a little bit contagious.

  
  
  
  


**7월**

By the time July rolls around, Minho and Jisung have managed to develop a casual routine to go with their casual friendship. 

It started one Friday night, when Minho was at home, bored because his closest hoobae, Hyunjin had relegated their standing Friday night drinks to Saturday nights because he recently got himself a new boyfriend. With nothing better to do, he came up with the bright idea to wander across the hall and knock on his neighbor's apartment.

He almost laughed when Jisung's door swung wide open, and he was met face to face with Jisung himself. The boy had looked like he just woken up—which surprised Minho because it was almost half past six in the evening. Still, his droopy eyes, and his messy bed head had Minho holding back a coo and a smile.

“What—” was his mumbled initial greeting, but it only took him a couple of beats before he realised that it was Minho at his door, and panic took over his expression. “Minho-hyung!” His instinct had him hiding behind the door immediately, only his head peeking out, as if Minho hadn't already seen the thinning white shirt and old gray sweatpants he was wearing. “I thought you were Changbin-hyung or something,” he grumbled.

Minho had no idea at the time who this Changbin person was, but he didn't really care—just like he didn't care that Jisung looked like a homeless hobo in his own home.

“Are you busy?” he asked, ignoring Jisung's previous statement.

“Do I look busy?” Jisung asked back, sighing in defeat as he stepped back out from behind the door.

Minho laughed. “Busy rehearsing for a play where you act like a shut-in?” he suggested jokingly. Jisung scowled at him, which one made him laugh some more. “Want to come over and watch a movie? I have popcorn,” he offered. “And beer. We can even order pizza, if you want. Us losers with nothing better to do on a Friday night should stick together.”

Jisung appeared to hesitate for all of two seconds, before his shoulders relaxed and he clearly decided that there was no point in putting up any sort of denial.

“Give me five minutes to change,” he said.

“Don't bother,” Minho declared, grinning and boldly grabbing Jisung's wrist so he can drag him across the hall to his own place. “No need to dress up when it's just me anyway.”

That was how it started—Friday movie nights at Minho's, which very quickly evolved into Jisung regularly crashing at Minho's during entire weekends because watching movies had easily turned into binging dramas long ago added to Minho's Netflix queue.

“Don't you have other friends?” Jisung asks him once; he has managed to convince Minho to watch an animated movie instead, but unfortunately for both of them, the plot leaves a lot to be desired and Jisung is clearly already bored halfway through. 

Minho lifts a curious eyebrow at him, and takes a sip from his beer can before answering. “What are you saying?”

Jisung laughs. “You've spent the last three weekends hiding away with me.” He's questioning, but Minho can tell there's no malice in it. “Or do you just enjoy spending time with me that much?” He greetings cheekily, clearly teasing.

The truth is that he has a lot of friends—his peers at school keep asking him to go out drinking, and even Hyunjin has been dramatically whining about never seeing him anymore. (Which, Minho has to admit, he's pettily reveling in—serves him right for putting his boyfriend before Minho.)

He shrugs. “Well, I thought we were going to be watching the new Kang Haneul drama this weekend and not this… monstrosity of a plotless animation flex. Why's this kid even risking so much for this manic pixie dream girl?!”

Jisung groans. “Fine, let's just watch Howl's Moving Castle after this.”

“I've seen that one,” Minho tells him.

“So have I,” Jisung shoots back. “At least a dozen times. What's your point?”

Minho laughs. “I guess I have none.” He pauses, and throws a popcorn kernel at Jisung, one that curly bounces off his cheek. “How about you? Where are _your_ friends?”

“They all know I hate leaving the house, especially on weekends, so they leave me alone,” Jisung readily answers.

“But you're in _my_ house, meaning you've left yours,” Minho points out.

Jisung laughs. “You conveniently live right across me, and you don't mind that I show up in nothing but sweats—coming over is like having my cake and eating it too. I get to say I've been socializing when all I've been doing is lazing around, just with you.”

Minho lets out a dramatic gasp. _“Just_ with me?!”

Jisung cackles. “You know what I mean, hyung!”

Minho _does_ know what he means, and honestly he likes that Jisung feels comfortable enough to spend lazy weekends with him. He huffs and petulantly throws more pieces of popcorn at the latter.

“Excuse you but me and Dori provide prime rate socialization.” As if detecting that his good name is being used in vain, Dori lets out a meow from where he's curled up on the single seat sofa adjacent to the couch that Minho and Jisung are on.

The two of them laugh, and Minho playfully elbows Jisung as if to blame him for disturbing the cat.

The truth is he's glad that Jisung seems to have let go of the fact that he never actually answered the question himself. He isn't usually the type to stay home on weekends—he does that enough during the week, with his head buried in his science books, and he likes being able to unwind during weekends with friends—whether it's just going out for coffee with them, or spending nights dancing at clubs. Somehow, though, these lazy weekends with Jisung have been quite preferable for him recently.

He reasons it's just because the season is changing, and warmer weather makes him more lazy. (Somewhere in the back of his head he knows that's nonsense, though.)

  
  
  


Hyunjin finally meets Jisung right around the end of the month, when he arrives unannounced at Minho's place one Sunday afternoon.

“What are you doing here?” Minho asks warily, even as he allows Hyunjin to move right past him so he can head into the living room and sprawl across Minho's couch, displacing Dori who has no choice but to hop off before he can be crushed by Hyunjin.

“I'm here because I know you've missed your favorite dongsaeng,” he announces, sneezing because he's always been a little allergic to cats.

“Hwang,” Minho deadpans, staring at him blankly. “Do you want to eat tissue paper today?”

Hyunjin laughs, and covers his mouth with both hands. “No mshir!” he answers, loud but muffled. He giggles, before dropping his hands on his lap. “Come on hyung, let's go out, I'm bored. Seungmin's out of town with his parents, and we haven't hung out in what feels like forever,” he whines, finally sitting up properly.

“What makes you so sure I don't have plans?”

“Well you're here at home aren't you—?”

Before Minho can answer, however, Jisung barges into the apartment, carrying a liter bottle of cola, and two packets of microwaveable popcorn.

“I'm here!” he announces; he hadn't even bothered knocking on the door because Minho gave him the security code a couple of weeks ago.

Hyunjin looks up towards Jisung, confused. “Who are you—?”

“Han Jisung. Who are _you?”_

At this point, they both turn to Minho with twin expressions asking for clarification.

“Han Jisung, meet Hwang Hyunjin, a hoobae from school,” he introduces them. “Hyunjin, this is Han Jisung, my neighbor.”

“Oh, hey.” Jisung smiles at Hyunjin in greeting, before glancing at Minho. “Did you have other plans today, hyung?”

“No, Hyunjin is an unwelcome guest,” Minho answers, to which Hyunjin is quick to react violently.

“Hey!”

Minho snorts. “Well you showed up unannounced, how else would you have me describe that?”

“A pleasant surprise,” Hyunjin huffs.

Jisung's gaze bounces from one of them to the other. “Well,” he finally settles on Hyunjin. “Minho-hyung and I are marathon watching Harry Potter movies.” He pauses, before smiling. “You should join us.”

Hyunjin looks at Minho, who shrugs. “You can if you want to.”

“Wow I haven't seen those in a while,” Hyunjin carefully considers. “I guess I can.”

“Great!” Jisung beams. “I'll get the popcorn ready!” He then saunters off into Minho's kitchen without another word, and it's only then, under Hyunjin's watchful gaze that Minho realises exactly how comfortable and familiar Jisung already is in his own home.

As if something clicks in Hyunjin's head, his mouth curves into a grin and a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes. “Is he why we haven't hung out in a while, hyung?” He has lowered his voice, but the teasing lilt is still more than audible. “He even knows your security code—you wouldn't even share your security code _with me!”_

“We haven't hung out in a while because you're always out with Seungmin,” Minho points out, dropping down on the couch next to Hyunjin.

“Hyung, please, the number of Saturdays I've called you so we could go out dancing—you kept turning me down!” He grins and nudges Minho's side. “I didn't realise it's because you also have someone in your life right now.”

“He's my neighbor, is all,” Minho insists.

“He’s cute,” Hyunjin says, leaning against the backrest of the couch. “And it’s cute that he comes over to watch Harry Potter movies with you. Didn’t know you were into Harry Potter.”

“He’s funny looking,” Minho remarks. “He looks like a hamster—or a squirrel. Like a rodent.” Like a _cute_ rodent, his brain supplies, but he holds his tongue from saying that out loud. Hyunjin would just pry even more. “And I'm not—into Harry Potter, I mean. I don't even think I've seen all the movies. That's why he's insisting we sit down and watch all of them.”

With Hyunjin occupying the love seat with Minho, and Dori once again making himself comfortable in the solo seater, Jisung ends up seated by their feet when he comes back, big bowl of popcorn cradled in his arms.

Jisung has obviously seen the Harry Potter movies more than a couple of times, and he and Hyunjin end up following along some of the dialogue, and at one point they even discuss in hushed tones what houses—Minho thinks that's what they're called anyway—they would be.

Minho ignores them for the most part in an attempt to understand whatever is going on with the movie; but then at one point he realises that Hyunjin and Jisung are having discourse regarding what house _he_ belongs in.

“Slytherin,” Hyunjin insists.

“Wait, isn't that where the villain is from?” Minho interjects, laughing. “You ready to climb into that air fryer, Hwang Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin pretends to cower, while Jisung laughs.

“Just because Slytherin has a lot of bad guys, doesn't mean everyone in that house is a villain,” Jisung points out. “But still—” he smiles, “Ravenclaw. Minho-hyung is clearly a Ravenclaw. It's such an underrated house, and people forget how Ravenclaws tend to not just be smart but very witty—they can be odd, like Luna, but passionate in their own way. I think Ravenclaws have very high EQ, and can also be very good with people, like hyung.”

He sounds so earnest and sincere, and Minho, clueless about Harry Potter lore, has no idea what he's really talking about, but he feels warmth in his chest anyway—he can tell that Jisung means well, especially when the boy flashes a bright smile at him.

“Ooooh—kay, fine,” Hyunjin, chuckling as if he hasn't just ruined some kind of moment. “I concede to Lee Minho being a Ravenclaw, then!”

They manage to blow through five of eight movies, before Hyunjin announces that he really should get going. He and Jisung exchange contact information before he leaves, however, and he promises to come over again the next weekend so they can finish the marathon.

“You like him?” Minho asks, when it's just him and Jisung left. 

“Uh—” there's a faint blush spread across Jisung's cheeks, which has Minho squinting at him. “You can say he's very pretty—he's attractive.”

Minho snorts. “I mean as a friend! I was pointing out you got along well, not asking if you have a crush on him!”

“Ah—ah!” Jisung turns completely red now, like an overripe tomato. “I don't have a crush on him!” he yells defensively. “I'm just not blind, is all!”

Minho laughs and shakes his head, successfully ignoring the churning in his stomach at the idea that Jisung might have taken a liking to one of his closest friends. “Yeah, well, Hyunjin's got a boyfriend anyway. No dice for you.”

Jisung groans. “He's too pretty anyway. Not my type. I swear!”

Minho snorts. “And yet somehow I get the feeling that pretty boys are _exactly_ your type.”

Jisung stares at him for several seconds before sticking his tongue out. “Is that a bad thing, then?”

“Yes,” Minho asserts, deadpan in tone despite the smile persistently tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes it is.”

  
  
  
  


**8월**

“Help?”

When Jisung gives him some kind of pleading, glossy eyed look, cheeks puffed out with lips pouting in a way that makes it obvious that the former needs something, Minho has to wonder how aware Jisung is of the effect he has on him—of the effect his incredibly adorable expression has on most people, actually.

He bets few people could ever really say no to this boy, and he bets double that those few people are actual monsters.

Nevertheless, he puts his guard up.

“No,” he answers immediately.

“Yah, you haven't even heard what kind of help I'm asking for yet!”

“Too bad,” he retorts. “You should have opened with details of the favor instead.”

“Anyway,” Jisung continues on, clearly about to ignore Minho's refusal. “Help me pick out a birthday gift for Changbin-hyung.”

The name Changbin is familiar enough because Jisung has mentioned him a few times before. He's one of Jisung's closest friends who work at the same music studio he does, as a junior composer. Minho has never really met him though, so he's confused as to why Jisung is asking for _his_ help.

“Get him Starbucks coupons on KaTalk,” he answers without much thought; after a pause, and a very pointed look from Jisung, he adds, “What exactly are things he's interested in?”

“Music?” Jisung laughs. “The thing is that Changbin-hyung's really rich—like his family is practically chaebol loaded, so it's hard to come up with something he wants that he doesn't already have. Your brain works in very special ways, so I figured, if I can't present him with something useful, I can go quirky instead.”

Minho snorts. “I feel like you just insulted me—”

“What part of calling your brain special is insulting!” he laughs. “I was thinking of checking out specialty shops in Hongdae. I'll owe you big time if you come with me, please?”

He looks braced to unleash the same wounded kitten from earlier.

“You’re just trying to spend more time with me, aren’t you?” Minho asks, before Jisung could even try.

Jisung blinks as if caught off-guard, but Minho isn't given enough to revel in the moment. Jisung recovers quickly, and he shoots back, curt yet cheeky, “Absolutely.”

It's Minho's turn to be taken aback. Unfortunately for him, he isn't able to recover as fast as Jisung who laughs at his startled expression. 

“Why are you always trying to get me to flirt with you?” Jisung taunts him, to which Minho scoffs. His ears feel incredibly warm though, and he has no doubt that they're probably glowing red.

“Geez, fine,” he caves finally, just like he knew he would from the beginning. He doesn't know why he even resisted, when he knew it was always going to be his loss. “You owe me big time, though,” he clarifies, as if that will get back some of his dignity. 

  
  
  


“So, when’s _your_ birthday?” Jisung asks, while they look around a quaint hobby shop somewhere in the outskirts of the Hongdae area. 

“Hm.” Minho hums as he quietly watches as Jisung goes through a consignment bin filled with vintage records, looking like he's having a fine time picking a gift without Minho's help. 

“Well if you don't want to tell me, you don't get a present,” Jisung tells him, pulling up a record to inspect it carefully before then looking up to meet Minho's gaze.

“Are you going to ask _my_ help in coming up with _my_ present too?”

Jisung laughs as if that's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. “Of course not!”

“Good. You better ask this Changbin person's help instead—I'm going to ask for something really expensive. You said he's super rich, right?”

Jisung keeps laughing as he shakes his head at Minho. “I'm not asking you to pay for _his_ gift, though, hyung.”

“True,” Minho acquiesces; he falls silent as he follows Jisung to the shelves where toy model figures are on display. Jisung is looking at them with a covetous desire that Minho can't help but mentally note—he's probably more interested in these things than this Changbin person is because Jisung doesn't really make a move to check how much they're for. He's surprisingly quite focused on their main task at hand. “It's in October,” he finally relays. “25th.”

“Ah, that's a month and a week after mine,” Jisung shares, beaming, as he turns to Minho and their eyes lock.

“Yeah? When's yours?” 

“September 14th,” Jisung answers; with a cocky grin, he adds, “Mark it on your calendar app.”

Minho snorts. “Now look who's trying to flirt with me.”

Jisung laughs, but the faint blush that spreads across his cheeks betray him. “You wish,” he mumbles, his feigned sass giving way to his natural shyness as it tends to every so often.

“Yeah, sure,” Minho returns, his own smile teasing—maybe even _flirtatious._ “If that's what you want to believe.”

  
  
  


It only takes a week before Minho decides to cash in on the supposed favor that Jisung owes him. When the latter shows up at his apartment the next Saturday afternoon, all set for their regular Netflix binge date, Minho shoos him back across the hall and tells him to get dressed.

“We need a change of pace,” he announces. “So go shower and get changed. There's a new restaurant I read about and I want to try their dumplings.”

Jisung looks at him in horror—as usual, he hasn't bothered changing out of raggedy sweats, but Minho's statement leaves little room for him to argue.

“But—” he tries anyway. “We were going to watch that new Lee Minho movie.”

Minho tuts. “It looks pretty generic, and let's be real, the best thing about Lee Minho the actor is his name,” he says, laughing as he keeps pushing Jisung towards the direction of his bathroom. “Besides, we can watch it when we get home.”

It turns out that Minho isn't the only one who has heard of this newly opened restaurant, because when they get there right smack in the middle of peak lunch period, there's already a waiting line _outside_ the building.

“Whoa.” Jisung wrinkles his nose. “Is the food _that_ good?” he whispers to Minho after the latter gets them listed, and they're told just how many parties are ahead of them.

Minho shrugs; he's never had any problem with being patient. “I guess we're about to find out.”

When over half an hour passes and the waiting crowd has barely dispersed, Jisung starts getting visibly listless. Minho feels bad, and he gently nudges the boy next to him.

“Do you want to find somewhere else to eat?” he offers hesitantly.

Jisung looks like he briefly considers it, but then steely resolve settles in eyes. “No way,” he answers. “We've waited this long, we're getting those fucking dumplings.”

Minho could only laugh; he could relate to the spite in Jisung's tone—the spite that's currently winning over actual hunger. “Here,” he says, sticking one of his fancy AirPods™ into Jisung's ear and offering a clear view of his phone screen. “We can watch stuff while waiting.”

They end up trawling through YouTube for at least another half hour or wait, during which Jisung introduces Minho to some of his favorite reptile channels in exchange for Minho showing Jisung some of the more obscure cat videos he found during some sleepless nights. They get so engrossed in what they're watching that they almost don't hear when the hostess calls for them to be seated.

Apart from two trays of xiao long bao which he automatically asks for because he's read it's the specialty of the restaurant, Minho allows Jisung to pick menu items for the two of them to share. Taken over by the persistent hunger that he's been feeling for the last couple of hours, he goes a little crazy, and they end up with way more food than two people could consume in one sitting.

“This tangsuyuk is…” Jisung makes a face at the first bite he takes from one of the dishes; unfortunately for them, most of the food apparently leaves a lot to be desired.

Their appetite dampened, they take their abundance of leftovers to go, and Minho doesn't hesitate in quickly paying for everything himself.

“At least we know never to go back again,” he grumbles, when they finally leave the restaurant and they're seated in the warm safety of Minho's car.

“I just don't understand!” Jisung doesn't look mad, just aghast. “How and why are people waiting in line for hours for _that?!”_

Minho laughs. “Well we waited for over an hour ourselves—how and why?”

Jisung groans, but soon he's laughing along with Minho, and it's nice, Minho thinks, that the two of them can laugh so merrily together at such an otherwise frustrating situation.

“I concede the dumplings were really good though,” Jisung admits grudgingly, which makes Minho chuckle because he has been thinking the same thing but refusing to admit it out loud. “I suppose there can be a next time—but only when people finally get over the undeserved hype, and we're only ever ordering takeaway. We're never dining in that awful place again.”

“Roger that,” Minho agrees and laughs as he starts the car. “Next time,” he echoes, the words feeling good as they leave his tongue.

  
  
  
  


**9월**

han jisung  
are you home?  
yah, answer me  
im bored  
han jisung!!!  
han!  
ji!  
sung!!!!  
HANNIE 😑

Minho frowns at the way his messages aren't even being read. It's a weekday, but his last class let out early and he has nothing better to do because the semester has only just begun and none of his professors have assigned work yet. 

Jisung has recently rearranged his work schedule, and Minho doesn't have it memorized yet but he thinks he vaguely remembers that he should be at home now. Still, when a couple of minutes pass without a response or delivered receipts, Minho grows impatient.

He hits the call button, and it only takes a couple of seconds before there's a soft click, and Jisung answers, sounding a little distracted.

“Yo?” Jisung voices cracks through the line.

“Yah, Han Jisung, go and check your messages.”

And then he hangs up, and once again waits for text replies from his neighbor.

**한직성😑** **  
** yah  
are you crazy???  
what did you hang up for??  
yes i'm home  
what's up?

wanna go get coffee?

 **한지성** 😑  
it's 3 in the afternoon  
?? what for  
i've got a guest  
changbin-hyung's here

oh  
invite him then  
let's get coffee  
im at our 7-11

Five minutes later and he spots Jisung entering the convenience store, accompanied by a sullen looking guy who stood at around the same height as Jisung himself—Changbin, he presumes.

“Hi, hyung,” Jisung greets him. “You're paying for coffee.”

He laughs but otherwise ignores him, his attention drawn to Jisung's companion instead, who nods at him in acknowledgement.

“So you're Seo Changbin?” Minho asks.

“And you're Lee Minho,” is the answer he gets, before Changbin breaks out into a wide grin. “Jisung talks about you.”

“I'm sure he does,” Minho laughs. “Only great things, because that's all there are.”

Jisung snorts. “Nah, I tell him that you're full of it.”

Minho squints at him, and Changbin chuckles in amusement. 

“Pay for your own coffee then,” he declares, straightening up and heading to the store exit so he can lead both of them to the Paris Baguette down the street.

Minho gladly pays for coffee, treating both Jisung and Changbin, if only because he's the one who dragged them out due to his boredom. Changbin eyes them when they order the exact same thing — tall iced Americanos, with a large slice of cheesecake to share.

“My pink cherry berry smoothie feels alienated,” Changbin retorts sassily.

“I don't know, it looks perfectly cozy with your danish,” Minho shoots back sharply.

Jisung snorts, and all three of them end up laughing. Changbin turns out to be enjoyable company, and despite his appearance, he's actually a pretty funny guy, quick-witted and able to sharply respond to Minho's type of banter.

“Do you guys want to go to the beach?” he suddenly asks, two hours into their conversation—he hadn't even noticed time fly by so fast.

“Right now?” Jisung gawks.

“Would you go if I say yes?”

“Depends,” Jisung tilts his head to the side. “Are you paying for dinner and my bus fare?”

Minho laughs, almost tempted to throw caution to the wind and truly bring Jisung—and maybe Changbin—with him to the beach.

“Not right now,” he admits, successfully curbing said temptation. “The last two days of the Chuseok long weekend. I made plans with Hyunjin and his boyfriend, but I don't really want to third wheel.”

“Ah, I'm game! my family's in Malaysia so my only Chuseok plans involve sleeping in and getting lost in the dark pits of YouTube.” He turns to Changbin, “come with us, hyung! I've never met Hyunjin's boyfriend, but I think you'll like Hyunjin.”

“Will it be okay with your friends?” Changbin confirms with Minho.

He shrugs. “More people coming means more people to split the cost of the pension we're staying at, so I'm pretty sure they're amenable.”

Changbin nods. “Okay, yeah sure—I'm always up for a good time and for making new friends.”

  
  
  


“So, what exactly is Jisung to you?” Hyunjin asks him.

They're in Minho's kitchen, with Minho in the middle of chopping vegetables for the salad he's preparing. Hyunjin is alleging that he's being helpful, when really, he's just hovering and being a busybody.

“My neighbor,” Minho answers the same way he has, the last several times that Hyunjin has presented him with this question over the last few months. “Stop being needlessly nosy.”

“And yet you invited him to go with us during the Chuseok weekend,” Hyunjin points out, quickly stealing a carrot stick straight off Minho's chopping board to chomp on.

“Third wheeling you and Seungmin didn't really sound that appealing,” he says, handing his knife to Hyunjin so he can continue chopping while Minho checks the beef he's letting simmer.

“You already invited your cousin to tag along,” Hyunjin counters.

“And I told you, Jeongin might not be able to go—he's in his last year of high school, and he's busy getting ready for the CSAT. Besides, I invited Jisung's friend too.”

“Ah, yes, the poor buffer.”

“Oh fuck off, or I'm not going to feed you.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Which brings me to—” he gestures around the kitchen with flourish. “You're slaving over a feast for him!”

“It's his birthday,” Minho explains.

“Sure—you've never even made miyeok guk for me!” Hyunjin prattles on. “I didn't even know you could cook outside of instant ramyeon, hyung!”

Minho laughs. “Not my fault you underestimate me.”

“You even looked up the recipe for his favorite Malaysian dish, hyung.” Hyunjin looks at him pointedly.

Minho bites the inside of his cheek; he's running out of excuses and Hyunjin is a persistent pest. “I was curious because he kept talking about it. If anything, I'm making a meal for _myself.”_

Hyunjin laughs, clearly not buying any of it. “Just admit that he's special to you.”

“Who's special to hyung?” As if on cue, Jisung has appeared in the kitchen doorway, Dori comfortably cradled in one of his arms, while he carries a cake box with the other. “Cake delivery arrived,” he adds, lifting the box to eye level.

The image of his cat, happily nuzzling against Jisung's arm, brings a flutter to Minho's chest. His cat isn't exactly antagonistic, just more ambivalent. He's never seen Dori take such a liking to any of his friends before Jisung.

“Dori,” Minho immediately answers, walking over so he can take the cake from Jisung. “Dori is special to me—and dinner is just about ready, so you should set the table.”

“Alright,” Jisung agrees with a shrug, setting Dori down on the floor so he can wash his hands and do as he's told.

Hyunjin keeps giving Minho a suspicious, knowing look, and when Jisung isn't paying attention to them, Minho proceeds to flip him the bird.

Hyunjin just laughs at him.

  
  
  


“What are you doing here all by yourself?” Jisung asks, dropping down on the sand next to Minho. He's dripping wet because he has just surfaced from the water, where Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Chan—who also works with Jisung and Changbin at the studio and was invited to tag along at the last minute—were still playing. “You scared of the water or something?”

Without waiting for an answer—not to mention without any warning at all—Jisung suddenly shakes his head unceremoniously, water from his hair splashing against Minho right on his face.

“Yah.” He glowers—or tries to, anyway. Jisung's laughter easily softens him, and he can't help but join in, his only form of retribution found in the way he playfully shoves the former.

“Heh.” Jisung grins, looking mightily proud of himself. “Come on hyung,” he starts, and Minho finds that he can't make himself look away as he runs his fingers through his damp hair. “What's the point of going to the beach and never going into the water?”

“You mean the sun and sand aren't enough attraction?” Minho chuckles. Jisung looks at him pointedly, and his chuckles evolve into full blown laughter. “I can't swim,” he admits.

Jisung looks surprised. “Really?” When Minho nods, he shakes his head with amused laughter. “You truly are like a fucking cat.”

“Hey now—that's a myth that cats can't swim,” Minho tuts. “They're perfectly capable of learning how. Most of them just choose not to.” 

Most of them are also just wary of water because of unfamiliarity, but Minho chooses not to point that out, lest Jisung interprets it as cats being scared of the water—and in turn, interpret said fear as his.

“Don't be lame, hyung, come on!” Jisung keeps insisting: his small fingers wrap around Minho's wrist, pulling at him when he gets up. “I can barely swim myself—we'll stay close to the shore and play chicken with the others. We gotta beat Hyunjin and Seungmin!”

Well—when Jisung frames it like that, Minho doesn't think he can say no. He can't allow Hyunjin and Seungmin to remain chicken fight champions now, could he?

The waves wash against his feet, and even after they enter the water—even after they're waist deep in, and he's slightly shaking from fear, Jisung doesn't let go of him.

“Challenge!” Jisung announces.

Jisung gets up on his shoulders, and despite feeling like the water can wash them away at any given moment, Minho manages to be steadfast; he and Jisung win two out of three against Hyunjin and Seungmin, only to be knocked out completely by Chan and Changbin.

At one point, they attempt to toss Minho further into the water and he forgets to keep up a cool front; he ends up yelling hysterically, and then, cackling, Jisung reaches for him, holds his hand and Minho feels grounded again.

  
  
  
  


**10월**

“Hey, hyung, what do you want for your birthday?” Jisung asks as he pushes a trolley while Minho peruses the supermarket's shelves for what he needs.

He had turned up at Jisung's at 9 that Saturday, hours before when Jisung would usually show up at _his_ door for their continuing weekend movie marathons.

When he answered the door, completely as expected, Jisung's eyes were heavy, and his hair was completely dishevelled. He had obviously just woken, and Minho briefly considered backing out—he doesn’t know what possessed him in the first place, and put in his head the idea of asking Jisung to go to the grocery with him, of all things. They were pretty close at this point, but it was such a mundane thing—such a domestic errand.

And then Jisung smiled, heart shaped with his crooked front teeth on full display. “Good morning!” He greeted, much chipper than what Minho would have expected from him.

“Want to go to the supermarket with me?” Minho asked; he had gotten quite busy the last few weeks and he needed to restock his pantry with a month's worth of supplies. An extra pair of arms to carry grocery bags would help, and his neighbor was regularly responsible for helping deplete his food supply.

Jisung blinked at him. “I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet,” he had answered; not exactly a no. “Do you have coffee at your place?”

Minho laughed and shook his head; he just noticed a tuft of hair comically sticking out. “No,” he said. “Which is why I need to go shopping.”

“Oh, right.” Jisung nodded, opening the door wider and stepping aside to welcome Minho. “I’ll get ready and then I guess I’ll go with you. I need to buy some food anyway.”

“We can stop by Starbucks on the way,” Minho offered. “But you have to be ready in ten.”

“I shower like Flash, don't worry!”

An hour later, and here they are finally, in the middle of shopping, matching half finished venti Americanos in hand, with Jisung apparently remembering that it's Minho's birthday soon.

“A million bucks,” Minho deadpans while inspecting the nutrition label on a box of cereal.

“Money is a stupid gift,” Jisung declares.

He looks up. “Gift certificates worth a million bucks then,” he amends, much to Jisung’s chagrin.

“Hyung!” Jisung groans, and Minho laughs.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, more sincere in his tone. “Get Dori cat treats or something.”

“But it’s _your_ birthday,” Jisung argues. “Not Dori’s!”

Minho shrugs. “Same difference.”

  
  
  


Minho's birthday falls on a Wednesday that year—more than that, it falls on a pretty hectic week. He has an exam that day, and a report due Friday, so instead of going out the night before and having fun with his friends to welcome his special day, he ends up pulling an all-nighter at his college's library on the 24th, with only an overly sympathetic Hyunjin as his companion. He loves the boy, but the pitiful looks he keeps giving Minho is close to driving him nuts.

The bright spot of his night comes when the clock strikes midnight and his phone begins to go off—Minho might be able to count the people he considers himself truly close with on one hand, but he's friendly and popular enough that a lot of people would go out of way to wish him a happy birthday.

Still, he leaves most of the greetings unread and he goes straight for Jisung's. He's met with a bunch of excited looking hamster stickers—ranging from one throwing hearts to one blowing out the candle on a birthday cake.

**한지성😑**  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINORING!  
good luck with ur exam 😙  
i wont bother u bc ure busy but  
🔗 _[link atttached]_ _  
_ here's ur gift ㅋㅋㅋㅋ  
oh! and channie hyung has a friend w a baking business  
and i got u small cake fr him  
its in ur fridge  
i practiced utmost discretion and didnt cut myself a slice yet ㅠㅠ  
and i also got dori a toy  
see u this weekend!

The link leads to a playlist with cover art that looks like it's made from a graphics program that's barely a shade better than MS Paint. Knowing Jisung, he likely cobbled it together on a phone app like PicsArt or similar. 

“MINORING'S BIRTHDAY MIX (thank u lee minho mama)” is what the playlist is titled with, and Minho has to chuckle at the cheek of it. 

_Description: SONGS THAT I THOUGHT YOU WOULD LIKE AND SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF YOU._

He takes a break from his notes and textbooks, opting to scroll through the songs that Jisung added. He knows few of them, but he's familiar with most of the artists, at least. He has no doubt he'd enjoy most of them; he fully trusts Jisung's taste when it comes to music.

When he gets to the end, he spots a song tagged with an artist he technically has never heard before. J.ONE, it says, next to a song called ‘Sunshine.’

He knows that's Jisung's pen name when he writes songs only because he's seen the latter's lyric notebook lying around his apartment, labeled as J.ONE's PROPERTY in big, bold letters. He's never heard any of Jisung's songs before, and he has never asked to. Music always seemed very personal to Jisung, so Minho always figured that if he wanted him to hear his work, he would volunteer himself.

He supposes this is that, then. He adjusts his ear pods, and hits play. A voice that's clearly Jisung's starts to sing—clear and fresh, and soon Minho's head is bobbing along to the light and catchy tune.

“What?” he snipes when he looks up and catches Hyunjin peering at him curiously.

“You're smiling like a crazed idiot,” Hyunjin observes out loud. “It's kinda scary.”

Minho huffs; he tears a piece of paper from his notebook, crumples it and without another word, stuffs Hyunjin's mouth with it.

  
  
  


It's past one in the morning when he gets home; He notices his cat sleeping in her bed that's set up close to his own bedroom’s doorway, a brand new hamster plush in there with him. Minho heads straight for the kitchen after checking on Dori, and just as Jisung told him, there's a small cake box sitting in the middle shelf of his fridge.

He lifts the lid, and written in mint colored icing is a birthday greeting for him. He pinches off a small part of the sponge cake to taste it, and is pleasantly surprised to find that it's sweet potato flavored—he had mentioned (in a very much off-handed manner) a few weeks ago, thay his mother used to get him sweet potato cake for his birthdays a lot when he was a kid. She was under the impression that it is much more nutritious than any other flavor.

Minho sighs as he closes the fridge door. Suddenly he's reached the point where he is now trying to figure out exactly how he feels about Jisung. 

He figures he likes him, obviously, because he wouldn’t really spend the amount of time he spends with him, with a person he doesn't like. He's pretty sure Jisung likes him too, but what he doesn’t know, on both counts, is _how_.

How exactly do they like each other?

When he starts thinking it might be romantic, he also starts thinking that maybe he’s been listening too much to Hyunjin, who is, at the moment, head over heels in love with his boyfriend—and therefore thinks that everyone else should be in love as well in order to be happy.

Jisung has completely wiggled his way into Minho's life—just like he'd commented once, he's in Minho's head, Minho's system. He's carved a special nook for himself, and he got all cozy in it. Jisung struts around Minho's apartment like he lives there, and he plays with Minho's cat as if Dori is his own pet. He gets excited every time he and Minho spend time together, eyes always lit up when they're bantering, and laughter always free and genuine whenever Minho cracks a joke.

Once, Jisung had expressed to him, “Hyung, I think we fit so well. We like so many of the same things, and you always make me laugh.”

Minho had just snorted, dismissed the words with a hand wave and that had been that. He hadn't known how to react then, and to this day he isn't sure what to make of Jisung's words.

Does he mean they fit so well—like real blood brothers? Like friends? Like… more? He hates how it should be so obvious and transparent, but it isn’t. The truth is that Minho hates complicated things, because as much as he wants to believe he’s a complex person—odd, strange and hard to read like people always tell him he is—he actually really likes it when things are simple.

Either you like someone or you don’t, and either someone likes you or they don’t. He doesn’t give a fuck about the people who don’t like him—he has nothing to prove to them after all, but the reality is that he's starting to think that he does care about the way Han Jisung likes him.

Minho decides that he wants to clear things up with Jisung; in the morning, before he heads to university, he crosses the hall to Jisung's apartment. He figures better to do it immediately, lest he fails his stupid test that afternoon because all he can think about is this situation with his neighbor.

He's all poised to knock when the door swings open, proving that the universe truly has the two of them synced, somehow.

“Hey!” Minho smiles in greeting; Jisung looks very much awake despite the early hour—and he's all dressed properly too, wearing a brand new looking button up casually thrown over his favorite statement tee, with his good pair of jeans and his favorite pair of boots. Minho can even smell the faintest hint of hair product, which makes sense because Jisung is also missing the usual cap or beanie he always just pulls on to avoid having to fix his hair properly.

Minho knows that his shift at the studio doesn't start until late morning, and he's usually wearing one of the same four shirts with jeans that are ripped from wear and tear, and not because of fashion.

“Hyung!” The usual light immediately goes on in his eyes, and Minho feels butterflies flutter in his stomach. “Happy birthday! Did you get the cake?”

“Yeah, thank you,” he answers, smiling because he can't help himself. “You're looking spiffy today.”

Jisung sheepishly looks down on himself as if to review his outfit. “Yeah? That's a good thing, right?”

Minho laughs. “Big date?” he asks, mostly teasing and not really expecting that to be the case.

“Yeah!” Jisung grins, and Minho feels something heavy sink in his stomach. “Well—it's a lunch date, technically, so it's not much, but Chan-hyung set me up with a friend of his. The one who baked your cake, actually! That's why I'm clocking in early today—just in case it goes well and I have to go over my lunch break.”

“Ah.” Minho nods robotically. In the months he has known Jisung, he doesn't think he's ever known the younger to go on dates—but maybe Jisung just didn't tell him. Maybe he wouldn't have told him about this one either if Minho hadn't caught him.

 _Ha,_ he thinks. Han Jisung is going on a date with someone else on his birthday.

On a date that a friend of his set him up with, at that. He doubts a friend would do that if Jisung was already interested in someone else—like a neighbor, perhaps.

So—that's that then. If Jisung is off going on dates with other girls or guys, then that pretty much answers the question Minho was going to ask.

Minho really hates how bothered he is by this—this is not him, so he pushes the uncomfortable feeling away as best as he can. 

He smiles casually. “Good luck and have fun, then.”

“Thanks, hyung!”

  
  
  
  


**11월**

Minho finds himself face to face with a huge flower bouquet—red roses and pink tulips—and Jisung's happy face. Looking past the flowers, he's able to make out the redness of Jisung's round cheeks, as if he's embarrassed to be presenting flowers to another man. There's a very determined look in his eyes, though, like he's willing the embarrassment away.

Minho is very amused.

“Happy Pepero Day!” Jisung exclaims, practically shoving the flowers into his arms.

Minho is confused. “These aren't... Pepero though?”

Jisung laughs and holds out a box of chocolate almond Pepero sticks towards him. “Yeah, but these are. The flowers—they were on a discount, and they're my favorites, so—” he shrugs.

Minho laughs along, even though he has no idea what's going on. “Thank you?” He swallows, before adding, “Does your boyfriend get flowers too?”

“Boyfriend?” Jisung looks genuinely confused, which has Minho feeling bad about his snippy disposition.

“Felix?” he clarifies, in a much gentler tone.

Jisung’s eyes widen, and then he laughs. “Felix and I went one _one_ date. It didn’t work out because he couldn’t shut the fuck up about Channie-hyung,” he cringes. “I really should have known before going on that date because Chan-hyung is the same. They’re in the middle of some weird will they or won’t they dance right now, and it would be annoying if it wasn’t so highly entertaining.” He smiles. “Felix is a great guy though—he bakes the best brownies!”

“Ah.” Minho nods; now he just feels like a big, fat dumbass. All that jealousy for what?

“Are we friends again now?” Jisung asks, leaning forward to inhale the flowers even though they're in Minho's arms.

Minho looks at him quizzically. “Did we stop?”

“Well.” Jisung's laugh this time is kind of forced, a little stilted. “You've kind of been cold since Hyunjin's Halloween party.”

Minho blinks, trying to remember what happened that night. Hyunjin had thrown a costume party a couple of weeks ago, and, not even with Minho's prompting, he had gone ahead and invited Jisung, along with Chan and Changbin. The three of them had brought with them Felix, Chan's cake baking Australia buddy who, as it happens, was also Jisung's date on Minho's birthday.

He laughs bitterly at the memory. Mostly he had just been avoiding Jisung at large, irrationally annoyed because he was confused at his own feelings. It was very petty and irrational, and now he wants to forget about all of it.

“Is it because I said you should have worn a cat+rabbit hybrid suit?” Jisung asks, looking absolutely serious and earnest; he was referring to the fact that Minho had half-assedly just worn a pair of bunny ears at the party. Hyunjin himself had whined dramatically at his supposed lack of effort and originality. “I was just kidding, I swear! You were a cute bunny, hyung! I was just kidding around because as bunnylike as you are, you're still such a cat inside.”

Minho snorts. “Are you serious? Why would I be upset about that? How old are we, ten? Besides, I got the ears on a whim. I was passing through a bazaar and they were cheap—and I didn't have a costume yet, so I bought them.”

Jisung chortles, albeit still a little forced. He shrugs, looking like he's still being careful so as to not offend. “You actually do resemble a cute rabbit, hyung. It was a good choice on top of being cheap.

Minho smiles. “Don't worry. I was just in a crappy mood that night.”

Jisung smiles, a little tentative, but more genuine. 

“So I warrant flowers now?” Minho asks, sniffing the bouquet. The scent is nice—understated and not as overwhelming as he expected it to be; he thinks he understands why Jisung is so enamored.

“I. Uh. Uhm. Well.”

There's a brief moment of pregnant silence; Minho raises an eyebrow. Jisung breaks out into a modest smile.

“You always warrant flowers,” he says. His cheeks are now the deepest shade of red Minho has ever seen on him and he’s really tempted to reach over and pinch them.

Minho attempts a cocky smirk, but he honestly feels a little flushed as well. 

“Thanks,” is the response he settles with.

“You’re welcome,” Jisung answers, looking much more at ease than he did when he showed up at Minho’s doorstep ten minutes ago.

  
  
  


“Well _now_ you have to answer,” Hyunjin demands when he learns about the flowers. “What is Han Jisung to you?”

“I’m not really in the market for a boyfriend right now,” Minho answers, completely circumventing the actual question. “Relationships are too much work.”

“And yet you’re the one using words like ‘boyfriend’ and ‘relationship’ here,” Hyunjin points out accusatorily, with a grin that Minho desperately wants to wipe off his face

Instead, Minho just stares at him blankly—soullessly. If he doesn’t say anything, Hyunjin will hopefully drop the case, at least for now. 

  
  
  


The first snow comes relatively early that year, during the last week of November, on a Thursday night. Minho is at home, taking a break from writing a mini dissertation on feline diets, and just playing with Dori, when there’s sudden and loud thumping at his door.

Before he could stand up, Jisung is, as usual, barging into his home.

“Hyung!” he’s grinning ear to ear, clearly excited. “It’s snowing!”

Minho is quite surprised because the weather report hadn’t mentioned anything about possible snowfall when he’d checked that morning. Jisung rushes right past him, straight to the sliding door that opens to a small outdoor balcony. Minho quietly follows him, Dori at his feet; his cat is smart enough to stop right before the door though—Minho, of course, only stops one he’s standing next to Jisung, and they’re both looking out as the picturesque white flakes fall gently from the sky.

“Are you going to make a wish?” Jisung asks, after a few minutes of silence.

“Are we twelve?”

“I didn’t realise wishes were only for children.”

Minho laughs, but he doesn’t say any more. Any wish he might want to make is not something he wants to share with Jisung.

“You were that desperate to see the first snow with me, huh?” Minho teases him instead, his way of deflecting from himself.

Jisung scoffs, and Minho expects him to shoot back with the usual— _You wish!_ Or, _In your dreams!_

Instead, Jisung lets out a resigned, “Look, I... I like you, okay?”

He certainly wasn’t expecting _that._

“That’s nice.” Minho answers, biting down his lip in order to stop from the crazy happy smile that tugs at his lips; he does his best to sound calm and nonchalant. It’s not easy considering the raging pounding in his chest. “I like you too.”

  
  
  
  


**12월**

On Christmas Eve, Jisung attends a party thrown by his bosses at the music studio. He invites Minho to go, tempting him by boasting that they’re going to have a few singers as guests—mostly underground artists, but relative celebrities nonetheless.

Minho doesn’t care about meeting celebrities, but he does consider going, if only because it’s _Han Jisung._ In the end, however, that’s the same reason why he chooses not to go. He doesn’t even know what the two of them are, exactly – nothing has really changed since the day of the first snow, and the thought of welcoming Christmas together makes him feel vulnerable.

Instead, due to his friend Jiwon’s insistence, he attends a drinking party thrown by one of their classmates. Unfortunately for him, it isn’t long before she gets completely hammered, which in turn has her dramatically sobbing on Minho’s shoulder—at least until he goes to briefly get them some drinks. When he comes back, Jisun, Jiwon’s on-off girlfriend of the last two years has apparently arrived, looking mildly exasperated as she promises Minho that she’ll take responsibility for getting Jiwon home.

 _Amazing,_ Minho thinks.

Minho has always been aware how much of a couple holiday Christmas is, but this is the first time that fact has actually made him feel a little lonely.

He practically scratches the touch screen of his phone when he furiously navigates through his contacts so he can call Jisung.

  
  
  


Jisung kisses better than he looks he would, is what Minho learns. Also that their height difference is completely complementary for kissing; when Jisung is barefoot, Minho only has to lean down at a very easy angle in order to slot their mouths together.

“W-what?” Jisung asks, completely out of breath, when Minho breaks away from their kiss. He did so because he wants to look at Jisung’s face—wants to see his expression, illuminated only by the moonlight shining in through his bedroom blinds. Jisung’s eyes are glossy, as are his lips, spit slick due to Minho’s own doing.

“Han Jisung,” Minho murmurs. There’s something about Jisung’s full name—something about the way it tastes on his tongue, about the way it sounds to his ears—that makes him enjoy calling him by that. “Hannie,” he tries instead, breathy, but it sounds sweeter than he thought it would. He doesn’t even cringe.

Jisung flinches a little though, obviously not used to hearing it from him. “Hyung,” he answers, a little more firmly. “Shut up.”

A chuckle barely escapes Minho’s throat; he sees Jisung swallow silently, and he takes that as his cue to move back in, and just like that, they’re kissing again. He’s the one who ends up a little breathless when Jisung is the one who pulls away next; Minho doesn’t really want to stop kissing him though, so he roughly tries to tug him back close.

But then he realises that Jisung is taking off his t-shirt, so he drops his hold on him, only to swallow silently. Jisung is very small in stature, and Minho had expected him to be skin and bones underneath his clothes, but he’s very much pleasantly surprised. His ab lines are pretty well defined, and when he manages to successfully remove his shirt, Minho can’t help but notice the way his biceps faintly ripple when he unconsciously flexes his arms.

It only takes a beat for Jisung to realise that Minho is staring.

“Like what you see?” he asks, his words cocky yet his tone shy. 

Minho doesn’t respond, but he pulls up his gaze to meet Jisung’s, and that’s when the latter balks. His face grows red, and he deliberately covers his front with his shirt. The action, for some reason, is something that Minho finds ridiculously adorable. He leans in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, taking his shirt out of his hands and throwing it to the side before he steps back so he can start unbuttoning his own shirt.

By the time they fall into bed together, Minho is completely down to his boxers. Jisung’s pants are unbuttoned, and he’s trying to clumsily get them off completely, which is proving to be a chore, considering neither of them are so much as willing to stop kissing each other.

“Do you have...?” Jisung asks, breathless, with hands pressed against Minho’s broad chest.

Minho nods, easily understanding what he means. He forces himself to get off Jisung so that he could quickly go through the bottom drawer of his nightstand where he magically procures a couple of condom packets and a half empty container of lube.

Jisung grins, not wasting in pulling Minho back towards him. “Always ready, huh?”

“Always.” He smirks, which has Jisung laughing.

“Okay, boy scout,” he retorts.

“Shut up,” Minho barks at him, trying his best not to laugh. “You’re ruining the moment you idiot.”

But he isn’t—not really, because nothing can ruin the moment; nothing can stop their back and forth, their synchronization as they make each other feel better; as Minho helps Jisung get ready, as Minho basks in the sweet, sweet sounds that Jisung makes. Nothing can get in between them as they anticipate each other; as Jisung helps slide a condom onto Minho’s erection; as Minho slides into Jisung’s warmth and they get lost in each other.

Minho doesn’t really believe in perfection, but as he gets lost in Han Jisung, a very faint voice at the back of his head whispers that this night is dangerously close to it.

  
  
  
  


**1월**

“Do you know? I’ve liked you since Day One.”

Jisung is smiling when he says it, but his tone is shy and his eyes couldn’t meet Minho’s directly.

“What, you can’t say that to my face?” Minho calls him out on it, laughing.

Jisung just keeps smiling sheepishly.

Minho peers at him curiously. “So, that would be since…? You saw me in the lobby getting my mail?”

Jisung laughs. “You’re really good looking, hyung, and I wanted to get to know you.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at that; he’s not impressed—he knows he’s handsome, and there’s no point in being falsely humble about it, not when he’s heard the same compliment a thousand times.

“You’re shallow,” he berates him, but there isn’t any real bite to his tone because he knows Jisung pretty well by now—knows that whatever it is that’s going on between the two of them has long passed simple physical attraction.

Jisung snorts. “I’m not trying to deny that.”

Minho narrows his eyes at him; he remains silent, if only because he’s curious and wants to hear Jisung’s justification.

“I had no idea how to talk to you,” Jisung continues, “and then that rainy afternoon happened, and somehow we became just friends, and by the time I got around to liking you again, I was kind of scared.”

Minho holds back laughter. “Scared?”

“Yeah,” Jisung admits, his smile wide, but bashful. “I knew you too well to know how to flirt with you—not that there was no lack of trying on my part.” Minho laughs, because that’s true—on both of _their_ parts. “Whenever I tried, you either would just stare me down, or deflect by making fun of me.”

“I could say the same about you, though,” Minho points. “I mean—you don’t stare me down, but you’re pretty good at turning your flirting attempts into jokes.”

Jisung groans. “I just didn’t want to make an idiot of myself!”

Minho is laughing hard now. “And you succeeded in doing exactly that,” he retorts playfully, and Jisung snarls in faux contempt.

“You’re doing it again, hyung, deflecting!” Jisung huffs. “Good thing I can read you better now.”

“Exactly,” Minho says with a grin. “Clearly it all worked out. Smile, Han Jisung, it’s a new year.”

He reaches over and cups both of Jisung’s cheeks with his hands, pausing only for a split second before he’s squishing them together.

“Yah!” Jisung exclaims, making a face at him.

And then the two of them are laughing in tandem, and sinking down into the couch together.

  
  
  


He’s with Jisung when the latter gets an invitation to the wedding of someone named Kang Younghyun with someone named Yoo Jeongyeon, in the mail.

“Who’s he?” Minho asks, looking over Jisung’s shoulder as he opens the pretty looking invite.

“My cousin,” Jisung explains. “From my mother’s side. We used to be really close and he used to recommend bands and artists to me. He took me to my first live performance when I was ten, actually. I mean, I guess we still are kinda close? But we never see each other anymore because he’s super busy. He works in a marketing firm in Gangnam.”

“And he’s getting married already?” Minho asks. “How much older is he than you?”

“Um, around seven years?” Jisung smiles. “So it isn’t too early for him.”

“Still,” Minho muses. “Before 30? Must be true love.”

Jisung looks at him, strangely surprised. “You believe in true love?” he asks.

“Eh?” Minho’s taken aback by how serious Jisung sounds. “Sure? Maybe. I don’t know.” He shrugs. “True love is a concept that seems even more abstract than… well. Love, on its own. Do _you?”_ he volleys the question right back.

“Yeah, of course.” Jisung’s smile is so earnest that it almost hurts. “I think it’s nice that he’s found someone that he thinks he could spend forever with this early on in his life. They've been together since he was my age.”

Minho stares at him, unsure if he finds his optimism regarding love naively cute or naively stupid.

“When I was younger I thought I would’ve found the woman I would settle down with forever by this age.” Jisung admits. “Don’t you ever think about that?”

“Woman?” Minho clarifies.

Jisung laughs. “I was nine. I kowtowed easily to expectations,” he explains. “I know better now. Man, woman—doesn’t matter to me as long as there’s a spark, and we fit together perfectly.”

Minho hums softly under his breath. _As long as we fit together perfectly._ He can’t help but repeat Jisung’s words in his head; they sound awfully familiar and they make him queasy.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “When 2PM debuted and I saw Ok Taecyeon… I kinda knew.” 

Jisung snorts. “Oh that’s your childhood type?”

“Yes.” He pretends to eye Jisung from head to toe. “And you can only dream of being half the man he is.”

Jisung laughs some more. “Tastes change,” he asserts. 

“Tch,” Minho scoffs. “You’re awfully confident.” 

“Isn’t that your type now, though, hyung?” Jisung grins. “Confident, and—” he playfully and exaggeratedly flexes his arms, “macho. I’m your man.”

Minho bursts out laughing; he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he declares, and Jisung’s grin gets wider, clearly pleased to have drawn out such laughter from him.

Minho smiles, but something pricks inside him. The truth is that Jisung’s words from earlier in the conversation are still running through his head. He has never really daydreamed about settling down — if anything, such a concept has always seemed like such a far away thing. Something that he doesn’t need to concern himself any time soon. But Jisung talking about true love and settling down? It freaks Minho out for reasons he doesn’t really want to delve into and understand at the moment.

Here is the unfortunate truth: he and Jisung anticipate each other so well, and yet everything about Jisung confuses Minho, more so now that they’re together. 

Well, at least as far as he can tell they’re _together;_ there never was a formal sit-down talk between them, rehashing and explaining exactly what they are to each other. Maybe that’s part of why things are confusing to him.

He’s never been the type to clamor for labels. Most of his previous relationships had just happened naturally; attraction, dating, sex—and then it fizzled out from there. With Han Jisung, he built something first—there had been a friendship detour after attraction, before the sex, and now here he is. 

Here _they_ are. 

The last month has been happier than he ever imagined it could be with Jisung—implying that he’s been imagining him and Jisung together, implying that he’s thinking of him and Jisung together _in the future,_ which is something else he doesn’t really want to dwell on.

Minho misses when dating was simpler. When boys chased after him; when he was the one who defined boundaries, and that was that.

  
  
  


Jeongin, Minho’s favorite cousin, drops by to stay with him for a week. CSATs are over, and he’s graduating soon so he’s finally free from cram school. He has the time to visit and stay with Minho, with the excuse that it’s best for him to get better acquainted with Seoul since he’s planning on attending a Seoul-based university once spring rolls around.

They’re cousins, but in truth, Jeongin is more like a little brother to Minho—which is what he tells Jisung. It’s interesting because Jeongin is the second among three boys, and yet Minho is much closer with him compared to his older brother who is only a year younger than Minho himself.

Jisung ends up taking quite a shine to him; he’s warm and friendly towards Jeongin at first, but he's quick to pick up on the fact that despite his baby face, Jeongin doesn’t pull punches when it comes to banter. That’s when things took a turn—initially, it’s amusing watching Jisung and Jeongin's repartee, but then they both turn to Minho.

Their tag team isn’t as much fun, Minho realises, now that he has to bear the brunt of it. Not even his patented, dead-eyed stare works now that they have each other to lean on, and as hard as he tries to be a good sport, he can’t help the petty annoyance that bubbles up from him.

He grows very short, mostly with Jisung, and when the latter goes back to his apartment at night, Minho hardly spares him a second glance. 

Jisung is very visibly confused.

Minho, meanwhile, grows doubly frustrated—more at himself than anyone else.

He has never been a hysterical or irrational boyfriend; in fact, he has always done the dumping before, because some of the boyfriends he has had were too clingy for his taste. For fuck's sake, he and Jisung are technically not even boyfriends yet.

Jeongin takes a look at him sulking, and cackles out loud.

“Well this is new,” Jeongin comments, obviously holding back laughter. “And highly amusing.”

Minho flicks him on the forehead. “Brat,” he reprimands him.

Jeongin snorts. “Sure, but there’s absolutely nothing to be jealous over, hyung. He’s clearly as into you. Loosen up, hyung.”

 _“Brat,”_ Minho repeats, with a bit more emphasis than before.

(Fortunately for everyone involved, Minho actually takes Jeongin’s words to heart. When they all go to dinner the next day, he’s a lot more relaxed, and a lot more calmed by Jisung’s bright smiles and silly antics. It probably helps that Jeongin takes the brunt of the teasing this time, though.

“Don’t say I never sacrificed for you, hyung,” Jeongin teases later, when it’s just the two of them in the confines of Minho’s apartment. “You’re welcome.”

Minho has to laugh. “Brat,” he repeats yet again, but this time, the word is dripping with obvious fondness.) 

  
  
  
  


**2월**

One cold February afternoon, Jisung shows up at the veterinary clinic that Minho started interning at during the winter semester. He’s all bundled up, swallowed by his neck muffler and drowning in his oversized padded coat. He’s carrying two tall coffee cups, one in each hand, and he’s bouncing on his heels—Minho isn’t sure if it’s from the cold, or from excitement.

“Coffee delivery!” he says, grinning as he holds out one cup for Minho. “I think it might be a little cold now though,” he says. “Or room temperature. And considering the current room temperature is freezing... I'm really sorry.”

He is smiling apologetically, earnest and eager, and while Minho finds him incredibly adorable, he also feels a little guilty that his first instinct is to question him.

“Why are you here?”

“Um, I missed you?” He tries to say it lightly, like he doesn't really mean it, but the apples of his cheeks are the usual tell-tale red, and Minho is torn between feeling pleased and frustrated.

He clearly still has no idea what is going on with himself.

“Um, and—” Jisung looks like he has more to say, but he also seems to have detected Minho’s strange mood as he seems cautious all of a sudden. “I have more news?”

Minho sighs, and nods for him to continue. “I have a lot of work waiting for me, though,” he adds, implying that Jisung should hurry.

“Right.” Jisung ducks his head sheepishly. “Sorry for coming without calling first, but—well.” He chuckles nervously. “I sold one of my songs,” he explains. “It’s—it’s the one I put in your birthday playlist? Sunshine?”

“Oh!” Now Minho feels like complete shit. Jisung came all the way to see him to share such wonderful news, and he had welcomed him so coldly for reasons that he himself has yet to parse and decode. 

“Yeah.” Jisung smiles faintly. “I wanted to come and tell hyung, first.”

“Congratulations, Jisungie.” Minho sounds more resigned than excited. He’s happy for Jisung, and he’s extremely proud, as well, but these positives are overcome by the embarrassment he’s feeling from the way he acted. “Let’s—” he hesitates, and tries to put on a more genuine smile. “Let’s celebrate later. My treat.”

“Alright.” Jisung nods; he’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry again for intruding, hyung.”

“It’s okay,” Minho assures him half-heartedly, even though what he really wants to say is that Jisung could never be an intrusion.

Jisung makes him feel so many things—so many feelings and emotions to the point that they’re overwhelming. Minho doesn’t know what to do with any of them. 

  
  
  


Minho starts acting somewhat distant, making excuses so he doesn’t have to see Jisung, or at least deal with him for long periods of time. He takes longer shifts at the clinic, and reasons that he needs to catch up on a lot of reading before the spring semester begins. 

It’s ridiculous because the spring semester is still weeks away from starting.

Jisung is obviously, and very understandably, hurt.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Seungmin informs him very bluntly; Minho wants to snap back that he knows that perfectly well, _thank you._

“I’m talking to Hyunjin,” is the only comeback he musters. “Is your name Hyunjin?”

“Well, then, talk to Hyunjin on your own time, not when I’m trying to spend time with _my_ boyfriend?”

Minho can only laugh in resignation because Seungmin is right, and he’s the one intruding on them as they attempt to study together at a cafe right outside their university. 

“It’s okay, let me deal with him,” Hyunjin tells Seungmin, placing one hand on his arm before turning back to Minho. “Hyung—”

“Hyunjin,” Minho returns.

Hyunjin smiles at him as if to say that it’s all going to be okay. “It’s good to be out of control every once in a while,” he says. “It's not like it's your first relationship anyway.”

Minho’s forehead crinkles. He isn’t sure about what Hyunjin is saying—it isn’t that he’s a control freak, because he has always been aware that he can never really control other people. He only has authority over himself, and what he feels, after all. But he has always been good at curating the kind of image he projects. He isn’t beyond letting his guard down around certain people, but the list isn’t very long, and the people who _did_ make the list, took quite a long time to be listed.

Jisung isn’t his first boyfriend, but Jisung is the first to demand his name be listed in record time; at the top and in permanent ink, no less. Minho isn’t sure he’s ready for everything that Jisung has brought into his life.

“Don't overthink,” Hyunjin tells him, and it’s funny because _that’s_ the kind of advice he’s always given Hyunjin in the past. Minho has always been the calm one who knew to take things at his own pace, while Hyunjin has always been the one who let himself get lost in his own thoughts and feelings. And now, it seems, the tables have turned. “Your face looks ugly when you overthink,” Hyunjin adds, looking far too smug for Minho's comfort.

  
  
  


“For me?” Jisung asks, looking shocked when Minho hands over chocolates on Valentines’ Day. “Are you sure you’re not lost?” He’s trying to sound sulky, like he’s still annoyed about his recent cold treatment, and Minho wouldn’t really blame him if he really is, but Jisung is also failing to hide the obviously pleased smile quickly spreading on his face. 

“Well if you don’t want them...” Minho reaches over to take them back.

“No!” Jisung says immediately, holding onto them. “You know I love chocolates! I’m just… confused? You aren’t a girl.”

Minho scoffs. “Is there a rule that only girls are allowed to give out chocolates on Valentines?”

“Well, not exactly a rule…” Jisung trails off, and then he just gives up with a shrug. He grins. “It’s tradition, but you’re right. Who cares? But also—”

“But also?”

“Well,” Jisung smiles mischievously, “I’ll take it if you give me the cutest, most cloying apology you can muster.”

Minho winces and glares at him. “Who is apologising for what?”

“Well, okay then.” Jisung’s lips turn down into a pout, and he holds the chocolate out back towards Minho.

Minho sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose with palpable frustration. He knows he deserves this, though, so he can’t really complain.

Jisung grins. “Have you ever needed to act cute for any of your boyfriends before?”

Just the thought makes Minho visibly shudder, which of course makes Jisung laugh. 

“Wait—” Minho looks up, as something in Jisung’s statement registers with him. “So that’s what you are? My boyfriend?”

Jisung blinks at him. “A-aren’t I?” He finds it highly amusing that now he’s stuttering. “I kind of tell people you’re _my_ boyfriend.” He pauses with uncertainty; he looks like he genuinely thinks he might have been wrong. “...Should I not?”

The expression on his face completely dissolves Minho’s metaphorical walls, and he laughs affectionately. “I guess that’s what I am.”

Jisung pulls his door open wider. “Want to come in?” 

Minho nods, and takes one step past him. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Jisung smiles at him. “I’m making lunch, want some?”

Minho laughs because Jisung in the kitchen means boiled eggs or ramyeon at most. Still, he nods eagerly. 

It’s like he hasn’t just spent the last two weeks practically ignoring Jisung.

That, coupled with the warmth in Jisung’s smile—they make Minho realise just how lucky he is.

  
  
  
  


**3월**

“Happy White Day!”

Minho gets packets of white ginseng, paired with an assortment of sweet pastries and candies from Jisung, and honestly he’s pretty surprised. He has forgotten about White Day, to be frank.

“Are we really celebrating that?” he asks, amused.

“No?” Jisung tilts his head, and then he grins. “Alright then, Happy Pi Day!”.

“That sounds incredibly nerdy and incredibly unlike you,” Minho teases. 

“I’m brains and beauty, how dare you imply otherwise?” Jisung sticks his tongue out at him.

“Do you even remember what ‘pi’ is?” Minho questions with a smirk.

“Yeah, it’s good when it’s apple,” Jisung answers without missing a beat. “It works with chocolate and marshmallows too?”

Minho snorts—he doesn’t know what else he was supposed to expect coming from his boyfriend. “Thank you. Even though you’re obviously trying to make me fat with all these sweets.”

Jisung snorts. “I care for your health!” he argues, tapping the packets of ginseng. “If you don’t want the rest—”

“You brought these pastries with the thought that you could dig into them yourself didn’t you?”

Jisung cackles. “You know me so well, hyung!” he exclaims, even clutching his heart dramatically.

“You’re so damn cheap, asking to eat your own gift!” Minho tuts.

“I am but a lowly minimum wage earner,” Jisung answers, looking up at him with kitten eyes; Minho is sure that by now Jisung is perfectly aware what those eyes do to him.

“Fine,” he laughs, shoving a cupcake directly into Jisung’s mouth. “But the moment you get a song that hits the roof of melon charts, you’re stuck paying for all our dates going forward.”

Jisung beams. “Thanks for the faith and trust that I’m making it that far!” he says cheerfully, cheeks full of cupcake.

Minho smiles back; the truth is that he’s more taken aback by his own implications that they’re going to last that long. But as the idea settles in his thoughts, he realises that the image feels just right.

  
  
  


They're eating pizza, the two of them seated on opposite ends of the couch, when Minho finally sorts it all out.

It's a Thursday night and he’s going through one of his text books. His hands are yellowed from highlighter fluid as he marks pages upon pages of important information. Jisung had come over with pizza, and he’s now trying his best not to disturb Minho’s night of studying by splitting his attention between Dori, and some horror movie on Netflix that he’s clearly seen one few too many times, if the way that he’s reciting the dialogue is any indication.

He’s gesturing dramatically and putting an act on for the cat, that even though he’s supposedly not allowed to interfere with Minho’s self study session, he ends up being distracting anyway. Not that Minho minds, really.

And then Jisung takes a bite of his pizza slice (pizza that has all of Minho’s favorite toppings, because Jisung said he knew that Minho was going to have a late night, and he explicitly stated that he wanted to do something nice for Minho, just like Minho is always doing something nice for _him,_ and it’s exactly his feelings when Jisung does things like that, that Minho is trying to sort out), and then the mozarella stretches—and stretches even more when he pulls the food away from his face. Jisung’s eyes cross when he focuses on the string of cheese that suddenly breaks and sticks to his chin.

Minho is just watching him, amused, and he probably looks like he is spacing out, because Jisung suddenly stretches his legs and pokes his side with his bare foot. 

“Ew, your feet smell,” Minho comments, wrinkling his nose and playfully pushing Jisung’s legs away. He twists around, pulling his own legs up the couch so he can poke Jisung back with his own feet.

“And you have funny looking feet,” Jisung comments as he grabs Minho’s ankles. He makes a face. “What kind of person has a second toe that's bigger than their big toe?! You're an alien.”

Minho glares at him, but then Jisung crosses his eyes again, this time with his tongue poking out and Minho almost busts his gut from suddenly laughing too hard. Jisung follows suit, and then he's tickling Minho’s sides with his funny-smelling feet and—

Minho feels really happy, and he's starting to accept why.

  
  
  
  


**4월**

“What do you want to do today?” Minho asks him.

“You,” Jisung answers without missing a beat. 

Minho’s expression falls and he shoots him a dead-eyed stare. It’s an expression that used to have Jisung slinking away, but this time, he just laughs, completely unfazed.

“The audacity,” Minho comments.

“I know,” Jisung agrees. “It’s attractive on me, don’t you think?”

“Sure, okay,” Minho gives in, and nods. “But the Han Jisung who wrote a song that’s included in a new album dropping today is the most attractive,” he says sincerely. “That Han Jisung makes me proud.”

Just like that, gone is Jisung's put upon cockiness from earlier, and he’s once again just Minho’s Han Jisung—confident, yet humble, and easily flustered by genuine praise.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “It’s just a B-side that most people probably wouldn’t even listen to.”

“Well, that’s their loss,” Minho assures him. “So now, I repeat, what do you want to do to celebrate?” 

“Spend time with you.” Jisung grins; it’s clearly a line, but he also sounds quite sincere, and this time it’s Minho’s turn to get flustered, with the tips of his ears turning red.

He rolls his eyes anyway. “That line is incredibly cliché, what movie were you watching last night?”

Jisung laughs, and slings an arm around his shoulders. “Hentai,” he answers.

Minho jabs his elbow to Jisung’s side, and Jisung’s face contorts in pain; they both know it’s more likely he spent the night watching turtle races on YouTube. “Serves you right,” Minho tells him.

Jisung presses his lips together in a straight line; he’s trying to look annoyed, but Minho is absolutely glowing with happiness.

  
  
  


Hyunjin literally squeals with glee when Minho comes clean to him.

“Love is a strong word though,” Minho tells him, trying to calm his friend down. “I just said I _might.”_

Hyunjin just smiles and shakes his head at him, smiling affectionately in a way that makes it seem like he thinks he knows something that Minho doesn’t. It isn’t worth correcting him over. “It's a start.”

“You're so giggly and giddy about this,” Minho says, laughing. “Everybody at school thinks you're this cool prince, and no one has any idea you're really just an excitable thirteen year old girl deep inside.”

“I—well!” Hyunjin huffs, and Minho laughs. It’s so easy to rile Hyunjin up. “That’s on them!” Hyunjin declares. “And we’re talking about you, not me!” 

“We can always talk about you instead,” Minho counters. “I don’t mind. How’s Seungmin doing?”

“He’s doing great, but I’d really rather talk about you and Jisung.”

“Geez, you’re so nosy!” Minho clicks his tongue. “I only told you because you’ve been giving me grief for almost a year—if I knew you were gonna be like this…” 

Hyunjin laughs even more; he nudges Minho playfully. “Come on, hyung. I’m really happy for you, though.”

Minho shrugs, trying to be all smooth and nonchalant. “Thanks.”

The smile on his face is unmistakable anyway.

  
  
  
  


**5월**

It’s raining when Minho wakes up, the sound of rushing water loud as it hits his bedroom window. It’s dark, despite it being eight in the morning and even though his eyes had opened before his alarm rang, Minho doesn’t really feel like getting out of bed.

When he turns to his side, he’s met with Jisung’s sleeping figure, which doesn’t really help in making him feel like he needs to get up and get ready. The sight, nevertheless, lends a smile to his features.

“Damn global warming, huh?” Jisung mumbles sleepily; Minho hadn’t realised he was already awake. “The rainy season started up earlier than usual again.”

Minho simply hums, still quite groggy.

“Good morning,” Jisung greets him, smiling warmly despite the lethargy in his tone.

“Thank you.” Minho smiles back.

“Do you realise it's been a year since we first actually exchanged words?”

This time, Minho is able to muster fond laughter. “Has it really been just a year?” he asks. “Feels like you’ve been a thorn in my side for so much longer.”

Jisung snorts, and Minho wrinkles his nose at him to indicate that he’s just kidding around.

And then Jisung suddenly takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

Minho blinks at him. “Uh.” He stares at him, awkward if only because the thundering in his own chest has just woken him up completely.

Jisung smiles, clearly embarrassed, but also trying his best not to turn away.

Minho suddenly laughs.

“You know what?” He grins, because the erratic pounding in his chest has strangely calmed. He’s at peace, completely happy and content in a way he doesn’t think he has ever experienced before. He doesn’t understand how that’s even possible, but he decides not to question any of it anymore. After all, growing up, he was taught that it’s best not to question it when good things come to your life. 

“What?”

“I love you too, Han Jisung.”

  
  
  


**끝**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading up to here. As usual feeeback is greatly appreciated, and once again, best wishes on your holidays!  
> [CC](http://curiouscat.me/yiminho) && [TWT](http://twitter.com/hanmings)


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